So one day I was alone at home and it was nearing dinner time when I planned to fix myself something to eat. I opened the freezer and dug around until I found what appeared to be chicken nuggets in an unopened plastic bag that for some reason, didn’t have any cooking instructions. Assuming my parents had thrown away the box for box tops, I called my mom to ask how long and at what temperature to cook chicken nuggets. She told me both of them, I laid out about 20 on a tray and stuck it in the oven, setting the timer before I walked out of the kitchen. As the timer was about to go off, I entered a kitchen that smelled like cinnamon. I looked around the kitchen, trying to locate the source of the cinnamon smell, which led me to the oven. I turned on the oven light, thinking my mom might have left some cookies inside, but I found that the tray with my chicken nuggets was actually filled with cookies!. As I’m trying to process what just happened, I hear the front door open and my mom shout delightedly, “Ooooo what’s that smell?”. She walked into the kitchen and saw my puzzled look. At that moment, it clicked, and she realized exactly what had happened. In some way or another, I had unintentionally baked snickerdoodles. And that is why my parents can never take my cooking seriously.